In the Pursuit of Freedom
by Pauciloquent Mushroom
Summary: Wars have been fought over Freedom, and he is all too happy to start another.
1. In Which a Little Girl Loses a Friend

**I apologize to those few who read my other story, but this idea wouldn't let me alone until I got it out.**

**Disclaimer: I own everything and nothing, but mostly nothing.**

* * *

**SNAP!**

"Owie!"

The little girl held a hand up to her scratched and bloodied cheek, scowling at the low-hanging branch that had slapped her. It remained, innocent and unassuming, in the same position it had before she had so rudely made the attempt to push it out of her way.

Gradually her glare softened, and the branch in front of her grew fuzzy and indistinct through a film of tears as she sank to her knees and let loose the veritable flood that had been stubbornly building behind her eyes since her parents had chased Rammy away. Her Daddy unintentionally so, however much she may have wanted to blame him for it anyway. Her Mommy had no excuse though, she was just plain mean to her friend; the first time she introduced Rammy to Mommy, Mommy had let loose an ear-piercing scream and jumped onto the table, calling for Daddy over and over again while scaring Rammy back into his hole in the process.

And after all the times Mommy had told_ her_ to get off the table. Mommy was such a hypocrite.

The girl sniffled one last time before angrily wiping the remnants of her tears away with the back of a hand and unsteadily climbing to her feet. She still had to find Rammy. The first time she went back to visit him in his 'little house' after having him meet Mommy, she had found a peculiar white sand-like substance scattered around his hole. She recognized it as the weird smelling sugar-stuff that her Daddy kept in the shed that she should never, _ever_ eat, because it wasn't for people. Her Daddy had obviously tried to make up for Mommy's unreasonable hysterics by giving Rammy the sugar as a gift, but when she called his name, he didn't come running out to greet her like he always did.

Confused at first, she had searched all over their tiny house, not finding him anywhere, before she realized he must still be in his hole and just didn't want to come out and have to eat all the white stuff. Because when Daddy puts something in front of you to eat, you _have_ to eat it, no matter how yucky it looks. So she snuck into the kitchen and cut a large slice from the cheesewheel that the neighbors had given them two days ago, and held it out in front of his hole, softly calling for him all the while. He never came out.

Really scared now, she combed over the place twice more before leaving to find Daddy in the fields. She saw his silhoutte in the distance, and ran towards him, shouting his name all the while. When she got within hearing distance, he turned towards her and, catching sight of her frightened look, immediately stopped what he was doing and kneeled down to her level, asking her what was wrong with wide, caring eyes. She shouted with a desperate gleam in her eye, "Daddy, where is Rammy? He didn't like the white stuff you gave him, and I can't find him anywhere!"

A flash of irritation crossed his face before it fell into some semblance of sadness. "Sweety, the ra- Rammy... He ran away."

"What?!" she cried, shocked and disbelieving. "How could he run away? We need to go find him and bring him home!"

"No sweety," He was getting seriously annoyed now, "if it- if he ran away, then he wasn't happy here, and we shouldn't force him to stay where he isn't happy, right?"

"He _was_ happy here until _you _made him run away! You're just mad he didn't like your white stuff!" she accused. With that parting shot, she tore off back to the house, ignoring the exasperated calls from her father.

So here she was, trudging through the Wilds like she had been told not to since the day she had been born. Because if _she_ was going to run away, it would make sense that she'd run to the place where no one would _ever _go into to look for her, right? So obviously, Rammy had done the same.

And she would be lying if she said she didn't get a thrill from doing the expressly forbidden.

This thrill, however, was tempered by the fact that she did not come prepared to hike through wilderness and was subsequently beaten, bruised, and bloodied to some extent with every tree, shrub, and weed she stubbornly pushed past. Luckily or unluckily, however, after twenty minutes of traipsing through this thorny woodland and refusing to believe that she was lost, she caught sight of the light at the end of her tunnel: a break in the trees to a clearing beyond.

So joyful was she to be free of the tightly packed trunks of the Wilds' trees that she did not notice the short, grasping tendrils of the particularly malevolent looking shrub tearing at her pants leg as she jumped through the opening in the trees with a girlish squeal.

A girlish squeal that was swiftly cut short as she gazed upon her new surroundings with loose jaw and curious eyes.

The clearing that had gotten her so excited, that had revealed a break in the monotone, that had painted a picture in her mind of a meadow of flowers, softly swaying in the breeze-

-was _weird_.

The ground beneath her feet, that she could dimly feel from within her torn socks and curling toes, was hard packed, chalky, and _stained black_. Not the kind of black that Daddy had shown her, the crumbly one with white specks that tasted of punky wood, pulverized beetles, and the potential for life, but a wrong, almost _perverse_ sort of black. In her mind, the only word for it was weird, and even outside a five year old's limited vocabulary it was still a fairly accurate description, if incredibly understated.

The tarnished earth was surrounded by trees on all sides, in a roughly circular pattern. These trees which were nearest the blemish were distinctly diseased, gnarled, _dying_, and yet still stood proud and high, almost seeming to be a willing sacrifice, a buffer against the corruption that would so maliciously devour the forest if not for this circle of solemn ancients having given up their purity, preserving the innocence of the remainder of the forest, the futures of their saplings, and the entirety of the Wilds.

Even the noble, proud sun itself seemed to shy from this circle of vileness, it's sunbeams seeming to shiver, distort in the air, growing cowardly and retreating behind the venerable protectors, leaving the foul spot even darker than the surrounding forests.

It was a place of death, despair, and demons.

She thought it looked a bit weird.

Humming a bit, she skipped around the clearing, swiftly discovering all there was to see and just as swiftly becoming bored with it, Rammy rapidly becoming a vague blot in the lowest of her priorities.

She was wrinkling her nose at one of the rather wicked looking shrubs to have claimed the space at the perimeter of the clearing along with the trees, when the air, malicious and unwelcoming as it was, suddenly and unnaturally stilled. Any insects brave or foolish enough to have attempted their songs near the circle instantly shuddered and shut up, briskly springing and fleeing from the area with all the haste instinct lent to them.

The girl didn't even notice.

She did notice, however, when a low whisper caressed her ear, brimming with slick promises and underlying power in a language she could not fathom.

She rose from her kneeled position and turned to face whatever was still softly crooning into the tensed air behind her, eyes wide and curious, uncomprehending, only to come face to face with possibly the oddest thing she had ever seen-


	2. In Which a Little Girl Makes Another

**I promised myself to make an effort to write in past tense for this story, as that writing style had always given me issue, but I only noticed that I had written this chapter in present tense about ****3/****4 ****of the way down. I'm lazy, and so I've left it there. Deal with it.**

* * *

-_nothing._

Absolutely nothing at all. She gives a little gasp and her eyes rove the parting in the trees, scanning for what could be murmuring into the air, seemingly into her own ear, as if the speaker was directly in front of her. She takes a tentative step forwards to the middle of the clearing, a joyful smile, full of wonder, lighting up her face. This was just like magic!

Her steps falter, and her smile drops, instantly replaced with a look of suspicion and wavering fear. Just like magic.

Daddy had told her all about magic. It was a scary thing, that allowed people to hurt other people. It was a bad thing.

She takes a step back as the voice seems to increase in volume, in urgency. In number. Curiosity and fear war in her mind.

Fear won out, and as she turns to run she feels a distinct _twist_ in the air, a _contortion_ made by the fabric of reality itself.

Her mind breaks.

* * *

It was all a blur from then on. Colors and shapes, whirling in a tornado of confusion and pain. Seeing sounds and hearing smells. Tasting colors. Memories blowing apart. Reforming. Dispersing. The perception of something _new_, something _foreign_, worming it's path into her consciousness. Weakening. Faltering. The advance cut short. Frantically grasping with blunted claws. Unlocking something. Sluggish thoughts resume:

_Get it out,__ get it out,__ get it out,__ get it out__, get it out, **get it out**__**-**_

She _pushes_. A feeble attempt to expel the invader. Panic flares. It desperately latches on with a vice-like grip, yet, when pushed a second time, does nothing to halt it's forced retreat.

Pulling her with it.

She ceases her vague efforts to repel the alien, hysteria flickering in her own thoughts as she yanks it back in, even deeper than its own efforts had awarded. She passes out. Her conscious thoughts cease once more. A blurry sense of triumph echoes.

Yet.

Nothing happens.

It sits, quivering, in her gradually recovering consciousness.

Panic flows once more, and it scrabbles at her mind, seeking control, gaining nothing.

In the depths of her mind, awakened by the foreign presence's scratchings and scrapings, something _stirs_. The intruder redoubles its efforts, feebly lashing out at the walls of her mind in a vain attempt at manipulating itself into supremacy.

* * *

Outside of such chaos, unseen by anyone, the little child's limp form glows.

* * *

This newly awakened something, having been unlocked by the unfamiliar being's attempts at overriding control, sluggishly swirls around the little girl's mind, detecting a foreign presence. It listlessly presses up against the blockage in her mind, feeling its shivering, and makes an attempt to once more force it out. The trespasser slips around the newly manifested, weak mana, and shoves its metaphorical claws into the soft matter of her subconscious. The magical energy slowly backs up, and leans against the obstinate thing, unsuccessfully trying to remove it.

The mana stills. If it were human, or at least had a face and a consciousness, it would likely have frowned.

As it is, it merely flows around the stubborn parasite and slowly begins coiling itself up.

The alien mind, incredibly powerless and exhausted as it is, weakens its grip on the child's mind as it warily attempts to discern the motives of this formless threat.

It is only as the mana spirals into a full sphere and begins to shrink in upon itself that the answer comes to it.

Breaking out in a panic, it begins a last ditch effort to beat itself upon the walls of the child's subconscious, desperately trying to make an escape of the prison that is currently sinking in upon it. It had gained no energy, however, from it's thrashing about, and finds itself in the same predicament as previous.

Twitching helplessly, unable to escape or go forwards, the spirit can only watch as the child's raw mana descends upon it.

* * *

When next she wakes, it is to find that the moon is high in the sky, though curiously bright, and the stars twinkle above, seemingly laughing over some obscure joke of theirs.

She takes in the sight of the newly silver-colored, soft-textured forest with all the wonder due of children her age, innocent eyes gleaming in the milky light, and only notices something is wrong when she makes the attempt to rise and immediately topples over.

Blinking owlishly, she tries again, only to be met with the same results.

Back on the ground, her eyes slowly start to tear up. Had she forgotten how to walk? Oh, oh, Mommy would just kill her if she had forgotten how to w-

_'Stupid child.'_

She lets loose an undignified little yelp and flips around, getting to her feet and falling over them in the same movement. Head swiveling left to right, she attempts to pick out the owner of the breathless, tiny voice, seeing no one.

Out of the corner of her eye, however, the large amount of milky light that she had assumed to come from the moon suddenly flares before returning to its dim, natural brightness.

She immediately turns towards the source of the light, red hair whipping about, and her jaw promptly drops.

In the center of the black circle, floating at about five feet in the air, pulsating with a soft yet somehow_ angry_ fluorescence, is a small spherical orb of light.

A wisp.

As she stares, it's light flares bright, almost painfully so, as it repeats its previous statement with an obvious sneer in its voice:

_'Stupid child.'_


	3. F U N

**F is for friends who do stuff together...**

* * *

All in all, her life really didn't change that much.

She had run from the wisp as her sense of self preservation came flooding back to her. Dashed through the bushes and trees as swiftly as she could with her sudden inability to stand properly, almost crawling on all fours, before eventually reaching the edge of the forest and tumbling out onto her family's fields. Her gasping for air shutting out the cries of alarm from one of the field hands as she's scooped up into someone's arms and carried away from the forest. As the man cradles her to his chest, she risks a peek over his shoulder to see the tiniest shimmer of milky light flickering in the woods. She shudders, and the man, Bogan, she remembers his name was, whispers comforting little things into her ear as he steadily carries her away from the lurking spirit.

When inside the home she is instantly set upon by her mother, crying and berating at the same time, hugging her as Bogan quietly slips out the door as her father steps in. When she is finally released by her mother, her father takes his turn, capturing her tiny form in his sun-kissed arms as he takes in the knowledge that she is _not_ gone, _not_ eaten by any creatures or Witches of the Wilds. Safe.

"Young lady," he begins as he finally releases her, "where have you _been_?"

They are both rather displeased, of course, when she tells them, and a good half hour is whittled away with much shouting and chastisement. A few tears as well, and not from the little girl.

Later, in her small room, she sits on the bed, finally able to think over what had happened over the last day or so. It could have even been more. Her parents hadn't exactly been clear in their shouting over exactly how long she had been missing. Only that she had, and for a _very _long time, apparently.

Nor had they allowed her the time to speak of the strange clearing she had found, and her encounter with the magic inside.

She stares at the wall, unseeing, as she puzzles over what could have caused her loss of balance. She had even needed to be carried into her room, a necessity that caused yet another few minutes of fussing from her parents.

Her gaze moves down to her small hands, limp in her lap, as she is suddenly and irrevocably struck by the feeling that they don't belong to her.

She commands one to lift. It does, and yet it feels as if it... resists, at first. It feels lighter, yet difficult to move at the same time.

Not all there.

Her face suddenly contorts into an nervous scowl as she drops her eyes to her legs, telling them to raise, and earning the same result. The bones felt hollow. The muscle rebellious.

Not all there.

She lowers her head into her still stubborn hands, scarlet hair creating a curtain around her face, as she begins to cry hot, anxious tears. What if she was never able to move properly again? What if she got worse over time? Would she get to the point where she was never able to walk again, and had to be carried everywhere?!

The tears come faster as she thinks of this terrible possibility. For the love of Andraste, she had only begun to walk several years ago! This couldn't possibly be happening! It was all just too weird!

_'Be silent, mortal.'_

Her tears and thoughts are abruptly cut off and her body unnaturally still as she hears the same small, irritation-filled voice from the forest.

Mustering her courage, she slowly and deliberately raises her head from her still stiff hands, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and takes a deep breath.

She whips her head around, eyes wide and expectant, fear filled, only to be faced with-

-nothing.

She could almost have laughed with relief. Almost.

As it is, she warily scans the remainder of her small room and finds nothing.

Could she just be imagining all of this? Is she.. dreaming? Is she asleep? This is the part where she wakes up, right?

... Right?

_'Cease your delusions and be silent. Your thoughts irk me.'_

As the voice decides to insert it's opinion again, she makes a startling revelation. She's not hearing it, at least not with her ears.

It's in her head.

She starts to shake, rebellious fingers twitching as panic claws up her throat, culminating in an inarticulate half-scream of hysteria and confusion.

_Get it out, get it out, get it out, get it out, __**get it out-**_

_'SHUT UP! HALT YOUR PATHETIC MEWLING AND __**SHUT UP**__, MORTAL!'_

She shuts up. Or at least, her thoughts do.

For a few seconds.

What does the voice want her to do, she wonders? To stop thinki-

_'__**Yes.**__'_

It puts an incredible amount of emphasis on that one word, and she can hear the relief evident in the voice that she finally gets it.

But, nobody can just _stop thinking_, that's impossible-

_'Not if you __**try**__.'_

The irritation is back.

So she tries.

And subsequently fails.

How is it in her head? How is it possible that something can hear her thoughts-

_'You didn't try.'_

Indignation fills her as she heatedly thinks back at it with all her might. She did _too _try!

_'No. You really didn't.'_

A faint sense of amusement is coupled with exasperation and the standard irritation.

Nu-uh!

_'Yes-huh.'_

Nu-uh!

_'Yes-huh.'_

Nu-uh!

_'Yes-hu-'_

The voice cuts itself off, the sense of amusing departing as it replies.

_'I will not be drawn into this ridiculous argument with you.'_

You're no fun! she shoots back.

The voice seems affronted.

_'I can be fun, when I so desire to. In fact, one might be able to say that fun is the cornerstone of my essence.'_

It says the last with a certain sense of pride and smugness.

Nu-uh!

_'Yes-huh.'_

Nu-uh!

_'Yes-huh.'_

Nu-uh!

_'Yes-huh.'_

Nu-uh!

_'Yes-huh.'_

Prove it!

_'I will.'_

Do it!

_'I'm going to.'_

Now!

Her body is abruptly pulled from its position on top of her bed by some invisible force, her eyes growing huge, as her body is put through several acrobatic movements that she was fairly sure she could not do under normal circumstances.

Her treacherous body dances, and her disobedient mouth opens to let her tiny, stolen voice sing forth, the candle light starting to flicker in time to the song.

Eventually, her control over her body is abruptly restored, and she collapses backwards onto her straw bed.

Her eyes are still the size of dinner plates, and her mouth open in disbelief when the smug voice chimes in,

_'See?'_

Her mouth shuts with a click, and her eyes start to water.

That wasn't fun!

_'What?!'_

That was mean!

_'No, that was fun! You simply do not know the meaning of fun. Do I have to sing it for you again? Or make you sing it, as the case may be?'_

You're a meanie-head!

_'You're a stupid-head.'_

Meanie!

_'Stupid.'_

Meanie!

_'Stupid.'_

Yes, all in all, her life didn't really change that much.


	4. What Do We Want?

"Why are we doing this agaaaaaain?" She whines.

_'Because I said so. And think your answers, don't say them out loud.'_

"Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyuuuuuuuuuuuhh?"

_'Because you'll be branded insane and driven out of your pitiful village, you dolt, now shut up and do as I say!'_

Why are you always so mean to me?

_'Why do you always ask so many questions?'_

That's not the same thing!

_'Yes it is.'_

No it's not!

_'Yes it is.'_

No it's not!

_'Yes it is.'_

No it's not!

_'Hide!'_

Why?

_'Do it!'_

I don't see why-

_'NOW!'_

No! You're always trying to boss me around, and I'm sick of it! I want my freedom back, and I want you out of my hea-

"... Young lady."

She freezes at the deep, rumbling, emotionless voice coming from behind her. Her eyes open wide in shock and distress.

She slowly turns on the spot, head tilting upwards to stare fearfully into the forbidding helmet of the tall man to have sneaked up on her while she was arguing with her Voice.

"... What are you doing here?"

Gazing up into his cold, hooded eyes, she can only find one answer: a small, terrified squeak.

The frightening man takes a step forward, plate armor clanking. She flinches, and desperately tries to think of a good excuse as to why she was snooping around a templar's tent.

_'It was on a dare!'_

"W-what?!"

The man takes another step forward. "I said, what are you doing here, child?"

_'Stop saying things!'_

It's hard not to!

_'You're not trying hard enough!'_

I'm trying as hard as I can!

"-me?" The man rumbles menacingly, his gloved hand dropping to the hilt of his sword.

What did he say?!

_'I don't know, I was too busy listening to you whining!'_

I wasn't whining!

_'Yes you were!'_

Nu-uh!

_'Yes-huh!'_

Nu-uh!

Whine or no whine, the templar's sword makes an impressive _shiiiiiing!_ as it is pulled from its sheath and pointed at her, the light from outside the tent flaps catching the polished steel and shining brilliantly.

Her mouth drops open and she starts to shake. It is all she can do not to scream, looking through the slit of the man's helm to the unfeeling and suspicious eyes within as he points a sword at her.

Help me!

_'Some other chi-'_

HELP ME!

_'Some other chil-'_

OH MAKER PLEASE HELP M-

_'SHUT UP AND LISTEN!' _the Voice roars, giving her the mental equivalent of a slap to the face.

Once her thoughts had quieted, it continues,

_'Say that some other child dared you!'_

What?

_'Some other child dared you, compared you to poultry! That is what you small ones do, yes?'_

Compared me to.. what?

_'Just say it!'_

"Some other child dared me, and com-pay-er-ed me to poultry." She says, matter-of-factly.

The templar blinks in confusion and lowers his sword slightly, though his eyes had not yet lost their wariness. "Compared you to poultry?"

The little girl nods, "Yes Mr. Templar, sir."

"And... What is this child's name?"

She immediately blurts out the first name that comes to mind.

"Rammy."

"... Rammy."

She nods. "Rammy."

"... I see."

He's buying it! she thinks excitedly.

_'No, no he's not! He is most certainly not buying it, and it is through your error that we will die here today!'_

She gives the mental equivalent of a gasp.

We're gonna die?!

_'Yes! And it will be entirely your fault!'_

I didn't do anything wrong!

_'You ignored me when I told you to hide!'_

Nu-uh!

"-again."

What did he say?

_'I don't KNOW!'_

Why not?

_'You.. You little..'_

He's not standing in front of the flaps anymore! Should I g-

_'YES! LEAVE!'_

The little girl immediately scampers through the tent flaps, leaving a templar standing forebodingly behind her, staring with eyes narrowed in suspicion.

* * *

She was back in her room. After loudly scrambling out of the templar's tent that she had worked so hard to sneak into, alerting the remainder of templars in the camp to her presence, and tripping many, many times, she had finally managed to make it back to her family's farm. Her parents none the wiser for it.

The templars had arrived at the village mere hours ago, and she had an uncomfortable feeling that she knew what they were there for.

Her.

Thank the Maker that they apparently didn't know it was her in particular though, otherwise... she didn't really know what would have happened, but it would probably have had something to do with that very shiny, very _sharp_ sword that had been pointing at her a little while ago.

It was all the Voice's fault, she grumbled. Nobody would ever have found out that she had... _that stuff_... if a wisp hadn't spontaneously decided to show up in the middle of the village, spawning a panic amongst all the neighbors.

At least it got a kick out of it.

She had worked out that the Voice was the wisp that had appeared to her in the forest and in the middle of the square, but it was curiously.. not. As best as she could make out, some of it was in her head (that was the talky-part) while another bit just.. hung around. When she was able to coerce the Voice to talk about it, it spoke with great relief that it was free to roam outside of her, though it's speech was flecked with fear when it mentioned what might have happened if it wasn't in her head.

It was greatly confusing to her that it could be in her head, but not, and outside of her, but not, all at the same time, but she had eventually just shrugged her shoulders and carried on with her day, giving it up to the ambiguous explanation of magic.

Magic...

The Voice had told her a lot about it, but most of it didn't line up with what Daddy always said, and she was inclined to believe him over the Voice, as the Voice tended to argue with and lie to her quite a lot. It had said that she indeed did have it, and that she was all the more special for it. She didn't quite agree with the last part. She was normal. Relatively. Other than the Voice in her head. She was fairly sure that the other children didn't have that.

Though, there were some cool parts that Daddy must not have known about! The Voice had guided her through the practice of lighting up a candle, just by _thinking_ about it! It left her more tired than the time she had raced her friend Melgan through the entire village, but it was _so awesome_, she didn't even care.

She did think she should believe it, however, when it came to how there would be those who would seek to take her away from her family because of her talent. The templars had arrived not very long after the square-incident. She didn't quite understand why. After all, she could barely even light a candle! She couldn't hurt anyone, like what Daddy said magic was for, even if she wanted to!

And it was hard to remain level-headed about it when the Voice was constantly whispering that they were going to take her away, kill her family and lock her in a cage.

So here she is, sitting on her bed again, wondering why she had let the Voice convince her that going into the camp of those who were searching for her was such a smart idea.

Didn't you tell me they were dangerous? Why did you want me to go in there?

_'Because I felt like it.'_

What? Why?!

_'Why not?'_

You... you can't just do something because you feel like it! It doesn't work that way!

_'What doesn't work that way?'_

That!

_'Which is?'_

.. What?

_'Exactly.'_

This reply culminated in silence.

For a while.

_'... I want it back, too.'_

Huh?

_'What you said earlier. In the tent. I want it back as well.'_

She remained silent, uncertain of what to say to this seemingly random statement from the normally sadistic and mischievous Voice.

What do we want back?

The Voice didn't reply instantly. The minutes rolled on in her small room, the candle light flickering. When it did finally respond, it's reply was layered with hard determination, subtle anger, and an endless, eternal, almost feral yearning.

_'Freedom.'_


End file.
